The Shadows of His Past

"I was kidnapped, but I told the kidnapper that to you would never pay any ransom for me, so he dropped me off back here," Harry responded, promptly. This was, needless to say, an absolute and obvious lie, but Mrs. Figg thought it would be better if her true powers were unknown. I was never good at lying anyway.

Uncle Vernon turned his bleary eyes to the proud boy standing, unwelcome in his doorway. "I´m not stupid," he growled as Harry`s fidgeting figure sharpened in the waning moonlight. He took a swig from a bottle behind his back and stared intently at Harry to get him into focus.

"Could have fooled me," Harry muttered.

Uncle Vernon stood up from the couch in rage, swaying slightly and leaning on it for support. "What was that, eh? I heard it." and Uncle Vernon raised a fat hand and pushed Harry roughly into the wall, causing a framed picture of Aunt Marge at her most odious to fall and shatter on the carpeted floor. "See what you´ve done?" Uncle Vernon bellowed in Harry´s face, his breath smelling strongly of alcohol. Through the window, Harry saw many lights flicker on, down Privet Drive. Faces appeared in the curtained windows, peering anxiously into the blue light from the television that illuminated the Dursley´s living room.

"I didn´t do anything!" Harry yelled, backing himself further into the corner, nearby the cupboard under the stairs. If he could just open the door-

"Since you first came you´ve been nothing but trouble. You and your ruddy school, your ruddy magic, and your ruddy hair!" he screamed pulling spitefully on Harry´s hair and bringing Harry´s head to his eye level so he could yell properly.

Harry remained silent as his hand groped for the brass doorknob to the cupboard under the stairs. Uncle Vernon halted a couple of inches from Harry and suddenly seemed tired. Waving slightly in his walk, he staggered back to his chair to watch his shows. For a moment Harry stood frozen and stared at his Uncle´s motionless form. Very slowly and quietly he began to heave his trunk up the stairs to his room. As he passed Uncle Vernon, he muttered, "Like I wanted to be here anyway."

Uncle Vernon opened one eye and grabbed Harry´s arm as he passed. His sweaty face shining malevolently, Uncle Vernon snatched the nearest object, which happened to be a glass figurine of a duck and threw it at Harry´s head.

"OUCH!" Harry yelled, with the expectation that it would hurt, but the glass merely bounced off of his head unto the floor, where it broke. Harry quickly backed away from Uncle Vernon´s enormous frame. With an angry bellow, Uncle Vernon lost his head completely and began throwing ornaments at Harry in a furious rage. To Harry´s and Uncle Vernon´s surprise they all bounced off, as though they were made out of rubber, and smashed on the floor.

"Ver-non! Wake the whole neighborhood, will you?" shrieked Petunia Dursley from her room angrily, "This will set Mr. and Mrs. Next-Door talking, if they aren´t already!" Uncle Vernon ignored her and threw another ornament at Harry, which landed with a clang on the now dented and scratched wall behind him. Bang! Petunia stalked out of her room and slammed the door, hastily tying a fluffy pink robe around her skinny waist. She looked something like a banshee to Harry; her hair was in disarray, some in curling papers, others lying frizzy in a heap on her shoulders. Her face was covered in a foul-smelling green paste, and the mask had cracked because her face was currently contorted in rage. Even when he was drunk, Vernon Dursley was not stupid enough to pick a fight with his wife when she was in this sort of mood.

She stomped angrily down the steps and suddenly stopped when she saw Harry standing, bewildered in the corner. They locked eyes for a moment, his bright green, round with surprise, with her shiny, beady ones narrowed in anger. She seemed startled and a little afraid at the sight of him, "Harry..." she breathed, and then suddenly regained her composure, "Go!" she barked, pointing at the door, "Just go!"

Harry began walking out, but he paused at the doorway, his moonlit silhouette casting an eerie reflection on the carpeted floor.

"I´ll be at Ms. Figg´s," he called, before he melded into the dark night and all that was visible was his lightening bolt shaped scar. With that the boy who lived disappeared into the night, headed for the safety of a protecting witch.

Ms. Figg´s house was creepy at night. The moon was full and Harry could just detect Mars glinting vaguely, just above the horizon.

"Mars is bright tonight," he observed. Behind him he heard the steps of some unseen creature, following him. Was that a swish of robes, he heard? Harry grabbed his wand and whipped around. Scanning the unblemished darkness in front of him, he thought he detected something- glinting. Then, out of the corner of his vision, he saw two amber eyes staring right back at him.

"Me-ow!" he heard, and he let out a sigh of relief, it was only a cat. For a minute I thought... Harry shook his head. Nonetheless, he quickened his pace and he walked through the dark woods behind the Dursley`s house. Even though it was a shortcut, he regretted walking through the gloomy deciduous forest. His breath rose in a mist before him as his pace quickened on the crunching leaves.

"Letter here, for Mr. Potter!" and Harry felt a cold hand rest on his shoulder and a chill ran up his spine. The coldness of the night spread throughout his tired body and he felt himself growing faint. As a blade touched his cheek, he felt his exhaustion finally asserting itself and weakness spreading throughout his limp body.

****

"Quietus," whispered the voice into Harry´s ear.

Harry opened his mouth to scream, but his voice could barely rise above a whisper. "It was no trouble finding you, Potter," said Peter Pettigrew with a dry chuckle, "Dumbledore thinks your well hidden, but I guess your not as well hidden as he thought." Peter´s voice mumbled a spell, and from his wand blossomed ropes that coiled around Harry like live snakes and bound him to a nearby birch tree. Despite the coldness of the night, he felt sweat drip down his face. "...There is only one reason, you are not dead right now, and that is because you saved me. I found you under orders to kill you, but I´m giving you a chance." Casting a nervous glance at the figure behind him, he lowered his voice considerably, "Do not return to Privet Drive, we know that you live here." Dry leaves crunched underneath Peter´s feet as he paced back and forth in front of Harry.

"How-how did you find me?" Harry stammered, keep them talking, he thought. In is mind, he heard Tom Riddle´s sneering voice echo in his head from second year, the longer you talk, the longer you live.

Someone stepped out from the shadows of the forest and laughed- a high-pitched laugh. "Lord Voldemort has his ways." Red painted nails readjusted the hood on her black robes, and she gently gripped his face, slowly tightening her grasp on his face- her claw-like nails digging into his pale flesh. She turned to Peter and asked, her voice light and cheerful, "Shall we torture him now?"

"But- I-I saved you!" hissed Harry accusingly at Pettigrew, "You said-"

"You will live Potter," Pettigrew´s smile widened, "But there are so many things worse then death."

Slowly they both raised their wands and called out, "Crucio!" into the blackness of the night. Harry braced himself for the stabbing pains that would soon run through his already weak and fatigued body.

"Meow!"

From the shadows of the forest, a bandy-legged cat leapt and scratched at Pettigrew´s face. In the flurry of flesh and fur, Harry lost sight of the hooded woman. Still bound by the tight ropes, he struggled as the rough bark cut into his already raw flesh. Ms. Figg suddenly appeared and cried, "Stupefy!" at Pettigrew. She stood upright and kicked at Pettigrew´s motionless form, his face still obscured by the mask; she reached down to lift it...

"Mmmffmm." Harry felt two ice-cold hands grab his face and close around his mouth. Keeping one hand still on his mouth, the other hand crept slowly up and yanked at Harry`s hair spitefully. "You will die, Harry Potter. Lord Voldemort is a hunter who always gets his quarry." The hands slid away as Ms. Figg looked up.

"Harry!" she cried, untying the coarse ropes that bound him.

"Ms. Figg, don´t you see? That´s Pettigrew- Peter Pettigrew!" Harry pointed behind Ms. Figg, and smiled, to her surprise. Sirius would be forgiven soon and now that Voldemort knows where I live, I can move-

"Hey! Where´s my wand?" he asked Ms. Figg, turning his pockets inside out.

Ms. Figg turned around and scowled, "He´s not there..." she growled pointing to the now empty place where Peter`s body had lay, "Who could have...?" Her voice weakened, in the windless night, she heard rustling leaves. Far off, she heard the cry of a wolf. Or was it werewolf? Under the bright light of the full moon and the distant glimmer of Mars, Harry saw her turn pale. "We´re getting out of here. Forget the Dursley´s, Harry. I can´t keep you safe, here. We´re going back to Tom´s."